


To Try for the Sun

by ineedthislikeaholeinthehead



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, warning one slur sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead/pseuds/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is obsessed with catching up with everything he's missed, and he's found something in those years that reminds him of an adventure he and Bucky had as kids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Try for the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone hates song fic, right? Sorry. This is song fic. 
> 
> I googled like 5 whole things for this, but if you see something that really pisses you off with its inaccuracy, please forgive me... or become my beta.

Bucky woke up alone and had to will himself out of bed.  When he finally trod downstairs, Steve had completely taken over the living room with memento. 

“Nothing pressing today, I see.”  Bucky said, causing Steve to pull out of his head and turn to look at him.  He smiled like the sun had finally come up.  

“Bucky!  I have something for you!”  He said, turning around to look in a box.  Steve was obsessed with catching up on what he’d missed.  And now, he was obsessed with making sure Bucky found out what he’d missed, too. 

“What if I don’t want something?”  He asked, and immediately felt guilty when he saw Steve’s face fall.  “Fine.”  He sat down on the sofa.  “What is it?”  Steve stood up, a dusty old record in hand.  

“You know they don’t use those any more.”  Bucky reminded him.  Bucky knew all the new electronics.  He knew about MP3s, and he knew about Your Tube and streaming music and he could find things on google.  He could text- though Steve almost never responded.   _ Especially _ if they were in the same room.  He’d always give Bucky this exasperated look (that was so cute that ensured that Bucky was going to do it again) and pleaded “Just  _ talk _ to me.”  And then, because he was completely hooked on him, Bucky would. 

“I don’t care.  I like them.”  Steve told him as he pulled the case off the record player- it wasn’t even a fancy model.  There were fancy models now because there were a bunch of people who were nostalgic for reasons less compelling that Steve’s.  He gets the thing all fired up. 

“Do you remember that night in The Village?”  Steve asked.  Bucky swallowed.  Out of all the memories that had been frozen and fried out of him, that one… that had been one of the first to come back.  

“It’s a hard night to forget.”

“Ok.  So listen to this.” He said, as he dropped the needle. 

_ He's five foot-two, and he's six feet-four, / He fights with missiles and with spears. / He's all of thirty-one, and he's only seventeen, / Been a soldier for a thousand years- _

Steve pulled up the needle. 

“No- No!  That’s not what I was looking for!”  He says, and looks apologetically at Bucky, who really wasn’t a fan of what he’d just heard.  Bucky pulls out the tiny computer that was apparently a phone now. 

“If you tell me what it’s called, I can find it on here.”  He says. Steve shakes his head. 

“No.  I can get this.”  And then he drops the needle again, and the most god awful sound in the world comes out of the player.  Bucky drops his phone, and covers his ears- though it doesn’t really work that well.  At least on one ear. 

“This can’t be what you’re looking for.”  He says. 

“No.  It’s just a harmonica.  Just wait.”

“You know I hate harmonica.”  The shriek was just enough to make his heart start racing.  But it ends, and the lyrics start. 

_ We stood in the windy city/ The gypsy boy and I. _

“G*psy is a slur now, Steve.”  

“Shhh.  I know, Buck, but it was 1965.  They didn’t know.” 

_ We slept on the breeze in the midnight/ With the rain droppin’ tears in our eyes. _

That did sound familiar.

_ And who’s  going to be the one/ To say it was no good what we done? _

Yup.  There it was. 

_ I dare a man to say I’m too young/ For I’m going to try for the sun. _

……………………………...

  1. Greenwich Village.



  
Bucky was running, but his mind was racing faster, cursing his best friend and current menace for getting him into this situation in the first place.

“Come on, Buck.”  He’d pleaded.  “It’ll be fun.”  He’d promised. 

There was nothing fun about getting your ass kicked.  Not that Steve knew that.  Steve couldn’t go anywhere without making someone punch him.  At the moment, Bucky wanted to punch him.  He looked back and saw that Steve, the tiny asthmatic was, unsurprisingly, lagging behind. And the two muscle men that had apparently been needed to keep trash like them out of the exhibit, were gaining on him.  

Bucky looked ahead of him and saw their escape route.  He ducked into an open door, and waited until Steve made his way past, quickly grabbing him and pulling him,  _ hard _ , inside with him.  They tumbled together, but he didn’t have time to get Steve’s skinny arms and legs entangled in his.  He stood up, locked the door, and pulled Steve up the rickety steps of the dilapidated house. 

Once they got to the second floor, he pulled them into the front room, and finally sat down.  The two mooks looked up at them from the locked door.  

“We know you’re up there, punks!”  One yells. 

“We can wait all night.” The other promised.  

Bucky slumped down the wall while Steve tried to open the window so he could yell back. 

“Steve.  Stop it.” 

“They’ve got a lot of nerve!”  Steve said, still riled up.  Bucky was just glad he was still breathing.  

“Yeah, and they’ve also got about a hundred pounds on us.”  

“Eh.  They don’t look so tough.”  Steve said, like he didn’t weigh 89 pounds. 

“Steve.   _ Stop it. _  It’s not worth it.”  Steve slumps down, too.  “How did we even get here?”

“Whaddya mean?  We took the subway, Bucky.” 

“No.  What did they even do to get you riled up.  Not that  _ you _ need a reason to get riled up.” 

“I do so!  And he said America was lazy and cruel.  He said we’d never be a great country until we fully embraced Communism.”

“And that was enough reason for you to head butt a gallery owner?” 

“Well, you saw how tall he was.  It’s not like I could have decked him.”  Bucky sighed.  His mother had had a Pekingese for about two minutes.  It was tiny, perfect little dog for their house.  Thing was, it had no idea it was a Pekingese.  If you’d asked, it would have told you it was a Mastiff.  Steve was the exact same way.  He’d get stilts to punch a guy, especially if they said something about America.  

But, they didn’t need to be there.  Steve didn’t agree.  This was an Important Artist exhibiting.  They would be able to tell this story to their grandchildren, according to Steve.  And tonight was the only night it was open to the public.  Bucky couldn’t figure out how Steve knew that, but Steve was so good at information gathering.  He could be so invisible that people would say things around him that they wouldn’t normally say.  

Bucky wasn’t crazy about the idea- and not just because it was a bunch of paintings. He didn’t like Steve’s adventures.  He was always hopping here or there. Always exploring with a fervor and a fire in his heart.  Bucky didn’t mind seeing places, but he was always perfectly fine in Brooklyn, where all he had to worry about was Steve getting riled up by a couple of local- much less intimidating- bullies. 

But Steve had done  _ everything _ for him.  He would sit up with him all night, memorizing stats and listening to Bucky talk about the future.  And he’d do it enthusiastically.  Steve would never sigh and complain while they went somewhere Bucky wanted to go.  The least Bucky could do was go see a stupid room full of canvas. 

He looked over at Steve, whose eye was bloody and black from the one good hit that the gallery owner had gotten in before Bucky could yank Steve outside.  He put his finger lightly on Steve’s brow.  It was hot.  

“Do you think you have a concussion?” He asked.  Steve shook his head. 

“I’ve had worse.”  He says. Bucky laughed. 

“Course you have. You’ll probably have more tomorrow.” Steve shrugged. 

“Maybe.”  He looked down at the floor, started picking at the splintered wood.  “You’ll still be there to watch me get my ass kicked?” 

“You know I will.”  Bucky said.  He peaked out the window.  The guys were still there, leaning on the streetlight and smoking.  “I don’t think we’re getting out of here any time soon.”  He said.  

“Probably not.”  Steve said, and they both resigned themselves to the idea that they weren’t getting back to Brooklyn tonight and would get hell for it in the morning.  

They both laid down.  It wasn’t like they weren’t used to sleeping on the floor, but this was an especially annoying floor, and the second Bucky’s head touched the wood, he felt a splinter on his smooth cheek.  He balled up his jacket and put it under his head.  Bucky felt Steve’s back up against his. 

“I’m really sorry, Bucky.”

“Good night, Steve.”  He said, closing his eyes and trying not to shiver. 

A few minutes later, he felt Steve rustling, and then, Bucky felt Steve’s jacket over his shoulders.  He was such an idiot, the jacket didn’t even fit him. Steve thought he was asleep, Bucky pulled what he could of the jacket tighter, and they both started to drift off. 

Bucky’s toes woke him up.  They were actually warm enough to feel again.  He turned over and Steve was lying right there.  Their noses almost touched. 

“Morning.”  He whispered.  

“Are they gone?”  Bucky asked.  Steve nodded his head. 

“What time is it?” 

“It’s too dark to tell.  I think it’s almost dawn, though.”  

Bucky kissed him.  It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.  But in a derelict building, in the dark, miles away from anyone who knew them… that was exciting.  Much more fun than getting beat up by adults. 

……………………………...

Present Day

 

_ And who’s  going to be the one/ To say it was no good what we done? _

_ I dare a man to say I’m too young/ For I’m going to try for the sun. _

 

“So, what do you think?”  Steve asked.  Bucky swallowed. 

“It was… It was good.”  He said, watching Steve smile as he got up and sat on the sofa.  He gave Bucky a kiss, and cuddled into him.  

When he’d seen what the serum had done to Steve, he’d accepted that whatever they’d had was gone.  And then, Steve had made it so clear that it wasn’t.  But then he’d gone and fucked that up.  Then, when he’d finally been deprogrammed, when he had reconnected with Steve.  Bucky had been terrified.  He’d seen Steve’s eyes, when he’d started remembering, and he’d hoped.  He’d seen Steve working with Sam… and he’d lost hope.  Of course.  Steve had been alive longer.  Of course there’d be someone else.

And Steve had had to make it absolutely clear again that it wasn’t over.  But even now, knowing how different things were… He still worried. He worried that maybe there was something about them that could survive, even if the whole world had thrown everything at them and they’d still made it, something else would inevitably come around. 

How could something like this stay the same for so long? 

They were walking around a few hours later.  For some reason Steve had an incessant need for Shawarma that Bucky felt no need to deconstruct. It was a chilly night, and Bucky must have unintentionally shuddered, because in a flash, Steve’s jacket was on his shoulder. 

It fit him now.  Which was always going to feel weird.  Steve grabbed his hand- in public, with people all around- like it was nothing.  He looked up at him- another thing that was always going to feel weird-  and they smiled at each other as they walked around, watching the last rays of the sun disappear. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just for the record, they totally did it. I know I didn't write it, I'm sorry. I'm definitely going to hell, but I guess the line for me is writing graphic semi-public sex about 15 year olds is where I draw the line. 
> 
> "To Try for the Sun" Is on Fairytale (1965) by Donovan. 10/10 would recommend this incredibly gay song. 
> 
> This is my first Stucky fic. Sorry if it sucks.


End file.
